


Lost

by Rosewood_Writes



Series: Faded [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Injury, Major Character Injury, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosewood_Writes/pseuds/Rosewood_Writes
Summary: Ethira takes a serious blow in a fight against red templars. Disoriented and bleeding badly, she flees the field to tend to her wounds. But she's not as alone as she hoped she'd be in the forest after dark.





	Lost

Her whole body went rigid as the blade impaled her. She’d felt cold steel before, but none had ever been this cold. Ethira stared at the sword tip embedded in her side in surprise. How could she have been so careless? Only a moment ago, no one had been there before. The red templar snarled victoriously at her.  
“Creators, no,” Ethira whispered. “Not today. Not now.”  
She stared down, saw herself in his twisted dark eyes, how smug he was in the false assumption that he had won. Time seemed to slow. Flames came to life in her hands, spreading up her arms and legs as the templar grinned in slow motion. The templar’s smirk faltered as the flames jumped onto him.  
In an instant, the two were blown apart as an explosion consumed the battlefield. Ethira lost her senses as she flew through the air: which way was up, and which way was down? She couldn't hear, and the world was just a blurry haze of green, brown, and red. If she screamed when the blade wrenched from her side, she couldn't tell.  
A sharp blow to her back snapped her back to her senses. She stared up at the canopy of the forest, dazed. She couldn't breathe, could barely hear over the ringing in her ears. Every nerve was on fire, screaming in agony. Despite the shock and the pain, she managed to scramble to her feet. Her staff was nearby, a little singed but otherwise intact. Grabbing it firmly in her hands, she fled into the forest, hand clutching her side as she went. Nothing tempted her to look back. She needed as much distance between her and the battle as possible.  
Before long, her legs decided she’d run enough. With a violent jerk, they gave way. She fell face first onto the mulchy ground, mind fogged with exhaustion and pain. But still her instincts told her to flee, to find shelter and tend to her wounds. She forced herself to her knees. The staff that saved her life countless times would have to save her once more. With gritted teeth, she dragged herself up again. One slow step at a time, she continued on, using her staff to help her stay upright.  
It began to feel like hours that she had been walking. Undoubtedly she had left a blood trail. Her fear of being followed by predators was only outweighed by her desire to survive. The adrenaline was beginning to take its toll, though. Her limbs were beginning to scream with fatigue. The sword wound was screaming again, growing worse with every step. Her vision was swirling, fading in and out of clarity. She could feel her heart beating in the back of her head. Her breath hitched painfully with every inhale.  
Her legs gave way a second time. Too exhausted to go on, she let out a weak, muffled groan. Why hadn’t she paid attention in battle? This would not have happened if she had just been more careful. But Solas was being overwhelmed. She couldn't just stand by and watch him die.  
She reached down for her hip flasks, her fingers fumbling over broken vials and shards of glass. Her pouch of herbs was gone, as was her pack of supplies. She cursed under her breath as she felt her way along her belt, hoping that at least one of her potions had survived the blast and her fall. A wave of relief swept over her as she closed her hand around the last vial. She pulled the cork with her teeth and downed its contents, grimacing at the earthy, dry taste.  
A small amount of strength returned to her. She rolled herself onto her back. A moan of agony escaped through her clenched teeth. The scent of singed hair and fabric tickled her nose. She lifted a hand up to her side, feeling warm blood flow over her fingers. With the other hand, she drew the dagger from her belt.  
Shakily, she cut through the leather and the tunic underneath. The sword had not gone all the way through, thankfully, but the wound was deep. Her sudden explosion of magic had prevented him from skewering her completely. Unfortunately, it had also caused the gash to lengthen considerably. Five inches of severed flesh was bleeding freely.  
Despite her exhaustion, she summoned up her remaining energy and blew out a sigh to steady herself. She gripped the blade tightly in her hand, turning the dagger a bright cherry red. Her hands trembled as she brought the burning blade closer to her side. She bit into the leather of her collar and pressed the blade into the wound.  
A fresh explosion of pain seared through her side. She screamed through clenched teeth. Her stomach churned, threatening to expel its contents. Blood filled her mouth as she bit through the leather and into her tongue. Gasping for breath, she pulled the knife away from the cauterized wound. She laid still for a while, but did not give into the lure of unconsciousness. The sky above was a deep blue, the clouds tinted pink from the setting sun. She needed to find shelter, quickly.  
After a few minutes more of resting, she rolled onto her good side and grabbed her staff. She hauled herself to her feet. Her vision swayed, but she stayed standing. Yet again, she set off at a slow hobble, careful not to rip open the wound. She didn't have time to bind it until she was safe.  
Sleep begged to embrace her as she wandered aimlessly. It was a demand she longed to succumb to, but the threat of death kept her moving. Even the onset of the chilling Hinterland evening wouldn’t stop her.  
And so, she walked on.  
Her staff lit the way when the sun left her. She could hear wolves and other animals about, but they did not stray into the light. I wish Bull were here, she thought miserably. Bitter regret brought a grimace to her face. Her explosion had most likely injured the others, possibly even killed them. And if it had left them unharmed, they were likely wondering where she was. She had just left them so carelessly, run off to save herself.  
We’ll find them in the morning, Ethira told herself. She couldn’t have run that far. They likely camped near the battlefield, and would be searching for her in the morning as well. Comforted, she kept her eyes open for any sort of cave or niche she could camp in for the night. Sleeping in the trees was out of the question in her current state  
But, she found no such place. Hours and hours she wandered the seemingly endless forest, finding nothing that could protect her from predators for the night. The baying of wolves behind her made her shiver. Had they found her blood trail?  
The wolves followed, drawing ever closer. A few choice swears escaped her lips as she caught sight of the first beast lingering just out of the staff light. She gripped her staff tightly, prepared to make a stand as the rest of the pack began to circle her.  
“Face me if you dare, cowards,” Ethira hissed, a flame bursting to life at the tip of her staff. “I haven’t got all night.”


End file.
